


Stranded 2: The Sequel

by IvanW



Series: Pre-Reform Vulcan [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love, M/M, Pre-Surak References, Roleplay, Romance, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanW/pseuds/IvanW
Summary: Spock, deeply in love with his captain, has many questions about Jim's time in an alternate universe, when Jim explains, and then makes a suggestion, their relationship takes a new exciting direction.





	1. Chapter 1

Spock stood outside the door of the captain’s quarters for so long, he was convinced another crewmember would come by, catch him, and officially decide he was a creeper. Odd at the least. Although, Spock was certainly used to being thought of that way.

But Spock was uncertain if he should request to see the captain. And therein lay the problem. He had been in limbo like this since the captain had been retrieved from an alternative timeline nearly three weeks ago.

Despite Jim’s vague mentioning that he would explain over their usual chess game, that had not happened. Not the explanation or the chess match. Jim had canceled on Spock repeatedly to the point Spock had ceased asking.

The captain’s behavior since returning from the timeline with talk of tattoos and role-playing had been decidedly off-kilter, even for him. He’d provided no clarification for either comment nor any particular details beyond his official report of finding himself with rather savage acting Vulcans. At least he had not to Spock. He could not say that he had not provided further details to McCoy, who always seemed to have more of Jim’s private confidences than did Spock.

Spock knew only the comments made in the transporter room when Jim returned dressed in an odd assortment of straps placed across his private parts as opposed to his Starfleet uniform. Besides references to tattoos and role-playing, the other thing that stuck in Spock’s mind was some reference to a frustrated Vulcan. It was a puzzlement.

Jim finding himself in a shredded uniform was not unusual. In fact, it had almost gotten to the point where Jim returning with his uniform fully intact was rarer. But with no uniform at all, no explanation as to where it went, and wearing bare scraps of clothing of a bizarre origin was entirely new. And disconcerting.

Though Spock had not yet officially declared himself to Jim, he had been working his way toward that. Eventually. His personal romantic relationship with Nyota had ended some months prior and she had been encouraging him to be honest with their captain. Spock intended to be. At some point.

Nyota had moved on from the two of them, was involved now with another, and had provided much prodding about Spock’s feelings for Jim.

Each time Spock thought to do so, however, he pulled back. Just when he was convinced that Jim had to share his regard, Jim behaved in some way that indicated to Spock that nothing could be further from the truth, and Spock remained silent.

Seeking Nyota’s advice on this latest happening, he had told her of Jim’s cryptic comment about role-playing. She had choked on her tea and told him that if she knew their captain, it was some sexual innuendo aimed at Spock.

But given Jim’s careful avoidance of Spock over the last three weeks, Spock had begun to doubt that was the case at all.

Though Spock had pretended not to notice at the time, both outwardly and inwardly, frankly, he had seen the telltale sexual bruises that covered certain areas of the captain’s body, what Terrans called ‘hickeys’, though Spock found the term unappealing.

From his own hypothesis, then, Jim had been sexually active during his time in the alternative timeline, and he did not act as though he had been assaulted against his will, so Spock concluded he must have been a willing participant with _someone_.

Given that he had stated both in the transporter room and in his official report that there had been Vulcanoids present wherever he had been, Spock concluded that Jim had engaged in sexual activity with one of them. It also seemed somewhat evident that it was with a male.

Jim was not exactly embarrassed about sex or sexuality, so there had to be another reason he was maintaining his aloofness with Spock, but he could not yet guess what that reason was.

Spock would admit to some measure of disappointment that Jim had been sexually active wherever he had been and he would also admit it was illogical to feel this way. He had no right. They were not yet engaged in any personal relationship beyond friendship, and perhaps, never would be, therefore, Jim could be with whomever he wished.

He placed his hand on the door, aware all this hesitation and rumination was getting him exactly nowhere, as it had, for the last many months of inaction on his part.

If Jim did not share his interest, Spock told himself, it would be better to learn this, so that Spock could move on, by way of an immediate transfer.

Spock shook his head. That was fanciful and emotional thinking that had no part in the way Spock actually thought. If Jim didn’t want him, surely there was no reason to transfer. Unless Jim demanded it. And if he did—

Spock blew out a breath, realizing he was about to talk himself into a panic and turn away once more. He pressed the button instead, feeling a vague notion of hope that his captain was not actually in his quarters, though Spock had seen him go in himself over thirty minutes ago.

What _was_ wrong with him?

The door made an unlocking noise and slid open to admit Spock. And Spock nearly turned and fled anyway. Was turning on his heels, in fact, when—

“Spock? Are you coming in or what?”

“Yes. I…” Spock stepped into Jim’s quarters, swallowing heavily as the door closed behind him, preventing him from a quick escape.

And escape he wanted.

Jim stood staring at him, both eyebrows raised in question, wearing nothing but a Starfleet issued terrycloth bathing towel wrapped around his waist. It was command gold, Spock noticed, for some absurd reason. Jim’s hair was wet and plastered to his skull. Droplets of water cascaded all over golden bare skin.

“A water shower,” he heard himself say.

“Uh. Yeah. I know. Are you really here to lecture me about not using the sonic? Because, honestly, I’ve had a shitty day and—”

“No,” Spock interrupted quickly. “No lecture, Captain. A mere observation.”

And Spock had an irrational desire to command that Jim never open his door to anyone else in only his towel. But he did not.

“Okay.” Jim eyed him for a moment, before giving a small shrug. “Give me a minute and I’ll get dressed.”

“No!”

“Excuse me?”

Spock found himself moistening his lips, pretty much mimicking a habit he’d caught the captain doing frequently. “I meant…there is no need on my behalf. To-to change.”

“Something on your mind, Commander?”

He said it in such a way, in a tone, that Spock guessed was meant to intimidate him, throw iced water all over Spock and his plans, really, and it very nearly succeeded in doing just that, and Spock decided the use of his title had been very deliberate, because Jim was always deliberate. But Spock chose not to give into that intimidation, that step back, Jim clearly meant it to be for both of them. Not this time.

“Yes. I am here to discuss a personal matter.”

“And you don’t think I should get dressed then?”

He hesitated. He really couldn’t demand that Jim stay standing in his towel. He wanted to, of course. And why did Jim answer the door that way anyway?

“If you wish to, I can find no objection.”

Jim tilted his head, his eyes narrowing, but he made no move to go to his wardrobe for clothing. “What is this about, Spock?”

“I wish to discuss your…experiences in the alternate universe.”

“You said you wanted to discuss a personal matter.”

“Indeed.”

“That’s my personal matter.”

“I did not specify.”

Those blue eyes narrowed more until they were mere slits of ice, really, which made Spock even more hesitant. But he had come this far.

Spock took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You spoke of tattoos and a frustrated Vulcan and—”

“Spock,” Jim interrupted. It was softly spoken, surprisingly. “I don’t expect or want you to get a tattoo. That was…well it was kind of a joke.”

“But…may I inquire as to the context?”

“Well. Honestly, I was trying to spare you all this, but you do seem intent on…I don’t know. Making me talk about it.”

“If I am invading—”

“Let’s just…where I was happened to be very different from here, Spock. Different than anything I’d ever experienced. I’m pretty sure wherever I was I was on the planet Vulcan or some version of it anyway. The Vulcans there were not like the Vulcans we know. Not like you or any of them. They were…”

“Tattooed?”

Jim smiled slightly, his eyes warming up from the icy blue they’d been some time ago and Spock had to admit he felt some relief at it. An angry Jim was something Spock did not enjoy at all.

“Yes. They wore clothing similar to what you saw me in when I was transported and lots of jewelry, very elaborate, and they were not at all logical.”

Spock considered this. “I am uncertain, but they sound as though they were Vulcans from the Pre-Surak time period. Perhaps rather than visit some kind of parallel universe, you time traveled back to Vulcan from those days.”

“Nope. That’s not it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because you, my logical first officer, were there.”

Spock blinked. Shook his head. “I was?”

“He looked like you except, well, not quite. A rather, well, perhaps if you were some kind of Halloween costume or something. Tattoos and braided long hair and jewelry. You didn’t speak standard. Only Vulcan. Well, except, you knew the word pretty.”

He frowned. “Pretty?”

Jim nodded. “You used that word to refer to me.”

The air between them seemed to freeze and break. The room seemed to move, to rock, or perhaps split, Spock didn’t know. His vision blurred. And then he was staring at Jim, who looked quite concerned.

“Spock? Are you okay?” He had his hands on Spock’s arms. Stood now so close Spock could scent the water droplets dotting his skin.

“Then you had sex with an alternate version of me?”

“Uh…well.”   


	2. Chapter 2

Jim took a step back. “How…I mean…sorta.”

“Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I did. But, wow, you-you figured that out?”

“It was obvious. You came back from that universe after having obviously been engaged in sexual activity, there were hickeys all over your person, you spoke of leaving a frustrated Vulcan, and you have now informed me that you came across one such Vulcan who in appearance resembled me.”

“Well. He actually was you. Er, well, you from there. Because he said he was Spock when I said I was Jim.” Jim shook his head. “It’s complicated. Your nostrils are flaring.”

Spock closed his eyes briefly. “Are they?”

“Yeah. Look. Obviously, this is freaking you out for some reason. But, well, you, er, he, was very persuasive.”

“Persuasive.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How? Because I have spent many months trying to be _persuasive_ with absolutely no results and you are missing in that universe for a day or two and you have—”

“That’s not very precise of you, Spock.”

“Forgive me, but you have turned my logical, analytical mind to mush.”

“Uh. Wait. Let’s go back a step or two.”

Spock stared.

“When did you try to persuade me to have sex with you? Because, if you had, we would have been doing it right the fuck now, to be truthful.”

Spock stared harder.

Jim shook his head and then started pacing across his quarters, which considering he was wearing only the gold towel was distracting to say the least.

“Do you even know why hot, mostly naked Spock seduced me so easily?”

“Mostly—”

“Yeah. And he had this hair…well, not braided exactly, almost like a mohawk in the middle, but then long, shaved on the sides, and he had this pendant on that was mostly red and he wore it on like this thin, leather rope around his throat. Then he had all these markings, tattoos down his face—”

“His face?”

“And his body.” Jim licked his lips.

“His body.”

“Vulcan script maybe? And he had these arms. They had muscles.” He stopped and turned toward Spock. “Do-do you have muscles, Spock?”

Spock swallowed, mesmerized both by Jim’s description and by Jim himself. “Some. I-I think. I mean, perhaps, not like his.”

“He had makeup on. Like, eyeliner, his eyes…” Jim paused to shake his head. “They were as warm and dark and stormy as yours. They _were_ yours. And they looked right through me. They were lined with black that accentuated just how absolutely gorgeous they were-they are.  And when he looked at me, I felt so wanted and so safe. Do you know he fought for me?”

Spock took a step forward. “I would.”

Jim stopped. Looked into Spock’s eyes. “Would you?”

He nodded, words sticking his throat.

“He carried this big Vulcan weapon thing. What are those called?”

“The lirpa,” Spock replied, faintly.

“He looked at me like he worshiped me. Like I was the most precious being in all the world. And that he was lucky to get to have me.” Jim shook his head. “He chose me. Me. No one’s ever done that, Spock.”

“I choose you. I would fight him right now for you if he were here.”

Jim stepped close and Spock realized he had reached out and seized Jim by his arms. He was warm and soft, so human. He hauled Jim close so that their faces were a mere each from the other. He felt Jim’s breath upon his skin, Jim’s heart pounding against his body, his own pounding in his side in answer.

“No one can take you from me.”

“But don’t you see? He was you, Spock. It’s always you I want. Wherever I go, whoever I am, it’s you. I seek out you.”

Spock’s hand spread out over Jim’s psi-points. “Show me?”

Jim nodded.

Spock joined his mind with Jim’s. “My thoughts to your thoughts.”

****

_“Pretty!”_

_“Er. I mean I guess.”_

_“So Just Jim pretty.”_

_Jim smiled back. “Spock pretty.”_

_Suddenly Jim found himself flat on his back, underneath a very heavy Vulcan._

_“Oh. Um. Wow.”_

_Spock smiled, showing a mouth full of teeth. He put his hand on Jim’s cheek again. “Mine.”_

_“What?”_

_“So Just Jim Spock’s.”_

_“Well. Not that I’m not flattered or anything, but—”_

_Spock’s eyes narrowed. “_ _Mine_ _.”_

_And then he ripped Jim’s shirt in half._

_****_

Spock withdrew, but he did not remove his hand from Jim’s face. He could not. He was fairly sure that he would never want to stop touching Jim.

Jim.

Always Jim. For an eternity. In any universe.

But this Jim was his, this Spock’s, and he would claim him.

“Taluhk nash-veh k'dular,” he whispered. His ran his thumb across Jim’s plump bottom lip, received the reward of Jim trembling, opening his mouth. But Spock shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What?”

Spock released him, with more willpower than he ever thought possible. He stepped back, almost went back when Jim swayed on his feet.

“I-I will be back.”

“You-you what?”

Spock arched a brow as he went to the exit door if his captain’s quarters. “You spoke of role-playing.”

“I…yes.”

“Be prepared to greet me then and do not get dressed.”

Jim stepped forward. “Spock, are you—?”

“I will be back. Wait for me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Spock was not entirely sure he was comfortable in this attire. Well, to be honest, he was not at all comfortable. But it was for Jim, who clearly had found such an appearance stimulating when confronted with Spock’s counterpart from whatever odd universe Jim had visited.

Not that Spock could entirely blame Jim, for Jim dressed as he was when he came back from that universe had likewise been stimulating. Except for the marking put upon his captain by another Spock.

On the old Enterprise, their bathroom had been shared between them. But this new, rebuilt Enterprise had improved, expanded quarters that included individual bathrooms. Therefore, Spock would have to leave his quarters, go out into the corridor, and then into Jim’s without letting anyone see him, as Jim said, mostly naked.

He did not relish having to request a transfer off the ship should anyone besides Jim spot him.

Spock did not find this clothing remotely comfortable to wear either, setting aside its general appearance. There was a strip of faux leather hide connected to the waistband of the—well…loincloth was all Spock could think to call it—in the back, that then went down, between Spock’s buttocks, and then connected in the front to the little faux leather pouch Spock had been expected to put his penis and balls in. He had barely fit. That the replicator had come up with this, based on Spock’s specifications was, er, disconcerting.

He was not especially fond of wearing the wig either, but at least it had fit properly. He had taken the lirpa, which was for show, off the wall of his quarters. It had been a replica presented to him by his father just before they’d boarded this new edition of the Enterprise since the one he’d had before, a real one, had been destroyed when the Enterprise went down on Altamid.

He hadn’t bothered with foot attire, didn’t even remember seeing if the other Spock wore any, because he intended to get out of the clothing he wore as quickly as possible. And no, he wasn’t blushing over that. Not at all.

Spock had a brief moment where he realized he hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes with him, for after, but he didn’t really want to delay things further, as he suspected Jim was already losing patience, as he seldom had any to spare. It had taken Spock a long time to apply the eyeliner, wig, and the faux tattoos even with the assistance of the replicator. He would simply have to borrow something from the captain before returning to his quarters because he was certainly not re-dressing in this.

One thing was sure, Spock decided he would never have wanted a career as a stripper. Not that wasn’t already a given, of course.

Deciding the corridor was clear, Spock darted out at increased speed, punched in Jim’s code, because of course he knew it, and there was no way he was going to wait to request access, because knowing Jim he’d deliberately delay letting Spock in just because he thought it amusing.

The doors opened and Spock ran in, heaving somewhat of a sigh of relief as he did so, the doors closing and latching behind him.

Jim, of course, in typical frustrating fashion, did not stand where Spock left him, waiting for Spock. Yes, Spock had been more than an hour, but still—

And Spock saw him.

Jim was lying on the bed, on his back, towel discarded and thankfully not replaced with anything else. His head and neck and upper back were propped up against the headboard. He had one leg bent at the knee, exposing fully to Spock’s startled gaze his erect cock and heavy balls. And he was angled so that Spock could see just a hint of rounded bottom.

His mouth went dry. And he stood, transfixed, looking at the beautiful man on display before him.

Jim pointed to himself. “Jim.”

Spock stared.

“Jim.”

Spock stared more.

“ _Jim_.”

“Sp-pock.”

Jim smiled. “Weird name. Sp-pock. How’d you get in here?”

Spock was about to say through the door, then recalled from his meld that Pre-reform Spock didn’t speak standard to Jim. So he replied in Vulcan.

“Oh shit,” Jim said. “Are you…I don’t know Vulcan.” Out came Jim’s tongue. “Come closer.”

Spock remembered the other Spock did a lot of grunting, so he grunted and walked over to the bed, holding his lirpa and glaring down at Jim.

Jim’s pupils were blown wide, the blue swallowed by the black. His breathing had changed, Spock noted.

“Wow. You-you…wow. You look incredible.”

“This outfit is most uncomfortable, Captain,” Spock spoke before he could stop himself.

Jim shook his head. “Yeah. I mean, I kind of know. The strap across the crack chafes. I had to wear one. Spock. That you would even do this. Put all that on. Awe, baby, you are so far out of your comfort zone. But you did this for me.”

“Well…yes.”

“And you look fantastic. So so gorgeous, really. I think I’m going to remember how you look like this for the rest of my life.”

Spock frowned slightly. “Because I look like him?”

“No, baby. Because of you. You’re so incredible and so gorgeous and you have no idea how much I really fucking love you and want you right now. You, Spock. You. The tattoos and the eyeliner and the hair. Wow, they are beautiful, but it’s the package under all that I want. I crave. I wanted him, because he reminded me of _you_. I don’t want you because you remind me of _him_. See the difference?”

Spock let out the tension in his body and let warmth and affection envelope him instead. And an immense sense of relief and an even more immense desire. He was going to get to have and cherish this amazing human. Jim was his. Always.

Jim opened his arms. “Come here.”

Spock knelt on the bed and crawled to Jim, hovering over his golden, naked body, more enthralled, more turned on than Spock was sure he’d ever been.

Jim put his hand on Spock’s jaw. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“The Vulcans there, the Spock, well, his, um, his dick had this natural lubrication and I wondered—”

Spock arched a brow, moved aside the pouch that enclosed him, and grabbed Jim’s other hand, placing it on his slick, dripping penis.

Jim sucked in a breath and so did Spock, for that matter, since Jim was now stroking his length. “Vulcans are amazing.”

Spock, with half closed eyes, groaned. “You are.”

“Like that?”

“Mmm.”

“Me too. And God, I think I might just die if I don’t feel you inside me soon.”

Spock shook his head. “Soon, my James. But not yet.”

“No?” Jim whined.

“Do you know how long I have…” His words got caught in his throat, his voice thickening with emotion. Emotion he should be ashamed of, perhaps, but could not feel shame when with Jim. “I have been imagining tasting your lips for months, and if I’m honest with myself, years. Sometimes, without your knowledge, I stare at your mouth, and I wonder what it would be like to be the one kissing you instead of so many others.”

Jim’s thumb stroked across Spock’s bottom lip and blue eyes met brown. “Wonder no more.”

Jim pressed his mouth to Spock’s, unexpectedly soft and scorching hot, though Spock could not think how he would have imagined anything less from Jim. He tasted faintly of coffee and bananas and coconut, whatever it was, Spock liked it, loved it, wanted more.

Spock thrust his tongue between Jim’s parting lips, stealing the breath there, so that it mingled with his, warm and moist, it was as though he breathed life into Spock and perhaps Spock into him.

Their lips parted and Jim said, softly, “The tattoos look really good. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to make them permanent?”

“They are hardly Starfleet regulation.”

“Maybe not, but they wouldn’t stop you, culturally, because…no?” Jim’s sweet smile stole what breath Spock had left, and so he kissed Jim again, to get more of that lifesaving air.

Spock moved his hand between their bodies and underneath and between Jim’s butt cheeks. Jim was slippery with lubricant.

“A guy likes to be prepared. You know, in case, you didn’t, or we needed more or—”

He shut Jim up with another kiss.

Jim’s hands slid over Spock’s arms then, feeling his biceps, tracing along the artful Vulcan script he had applied.

“Let’s, let’s get you out of all this. I want you bare, rubbing all over me.”

Jim helped him undo the belt at the waistband of the loincloth, and he wasn’t at all surprised when Jim tossed the whole contraption aside impatiently.

“The necklace?” Spock asked.

Jim smirked. “Let’s leave it on. I still can’t believe you did all this for me. And the eyeliner. God, Spock, you are so hot.”

“Show me.” Spock parted Jim’s legs, lifting his buttocks up, so that he could wrap those legs around Spock as Spock pushed in deep inside Jim’s hole.

There was a deep, loud groan, and Spock realized it came from both of them, in unison. In everything, they seemed to be in sync, and he wondered briefly, before his mind became occupied solely with Jim and pleasure, why it took them both so long to realize it.

He pushed in deeper, wanting to crawl inside Jim, to fuse them together so they were one, and nothing and no one could separate them. Jim clung to him, gripping Spock’s shoulder forcefully as he pushed up off the bed to meet every thrust of Spock’s.

Jim tightened his legs, his thigh muscles straining, as he suddenly flipped Spock to his back, with Jim straddling him, pressing down on Spock’s throbbing, pulsing cock within him.

Jim leaned down enough to capture Spock’s mouth, teasing his tongue along the bottom lip, and then once more arching back, embedding Spock deep inside.   

Spock had never guessed what the fanciful phrase “seeing stars” meant, but he learned the meaning as his brain shorted out, his vision blurred and sparkled, and he released cum into Jim, coming harder than he ever had.

When he scented Jim’s cum only moments later, then felt the splatter of it hitting his skin, he pulled Jim close, holding him, clenching him to him, intend on not letting go.

“Hey.”

Spock did not move.

“Hey, Spock.”

This time Jim shook him. He opened one eye.

Jim kissed his nose. Spock grumbled and opened both eyes.

“Perhaps sleep would be in order.”

Jim shook his head. “Not until we clean up and go all over again.”

“If we are simply going to do it again—”

“There’s nothing simple about that, mister.”

“There is little point to cleaning up.”

“All that dried cum is gross. We can clean up sonically if you want.” Jim smiled, and leaned his folded arms on Spock’s chest and then his chin on the arms. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Another roleplay?”

Jim laughed. It was a good sound. “No. Um. You look fantastic, but you have trouble staying in character. But I get it. It’s not your thing, and the fact you even wanted to try is beyond amazing. But I’m so okay with having the real you. Although, you really ought to think about that eyeliner—”

“Jim.”

“Can we…Spock, I want to help him.”

“Help who?”

“The Spock from that universe.”

“How?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s where you come in. And maybe Scotty. I mean, I didn’t time travel, that’s some weird alternate universe. Maybe we can find the Jim from there and send him to Vulcan for Spock.”

“Ashaya—”

“Or even somehow beam Spock to Jim.”

“That would most definitely violate the Prime Directive, Captain.”

“Well. But the Prime Directive does, in fact, apply to us messing around in _this_ universe, not necessarily another.”

“That is putting quite the spin on the Prime Directive.”

“Maybe, but I think it works. Spock, I want him to have his Jim. And Jim to have his Spock. I mean, we have each other now, right?”

“Yes,” Spock said, reluctantly.

“I hate the idea of him being alone. He really really liked me, Spock.”

“I realize that.”

“And I had to leave him.”

Spock narrowed his eyes. “Do you have regrets?” He stiffened.

“No. Only that he’s without the Jim that is meant for _him_. I’m meant for you.”

Spock relaxed. Started rubbing Jim’s arms. “I am not certain how we could help.”

“We can look into it though right?”

“I hesitate sending that Jim to that Spock against his will.”

“But it wouldn’t be. I mean not for long. If we’re meant to be, and the other Spock and other Jims are, then it’s probably that way everywhere.”

“Maybe.”

“That Spock wouldn’t hurt him. I know that. And I hate the idea of him being without Jim, without his love.”

Spock sighed. “Jim…”

“Wouldn’t you want someone to help you find me?”

He paused. “Someone did. Or tried, anyway. I maintained my stubbornness for quite a while. He tried more than once.”

“The ambassador?”

“Yes. Very well, Jim. We can look into it. But we may not even find the exact universe you went to, let alone how to get Point A, you, to Point B, me.”

Jim nodded. But he didn’t look happy. “But we’ll try?”

“Yes, we will try. Because I love you and would do anything to make you happy.”

Jim smiled, rose up, and leaned down to kiss Spock. “Thank you. And I love you too. And that’s exactly why I want to try. I’d do anything to make all the Spocks happy with all their Jims.”

Spock put his hand to Jim’s cheek. “I know. You have a big heart and you are full of compassion. I can find no fault in that. I am happy that in this universe, I have found you. And I will not let you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap   
> Thanks for reading


End file.
